


We Can Touch Instead Of Feel

by kaijuvenom after dark (kaijuvenom)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Fingerfucking, Hate Sex, I just like jungles, I made up everything about the vorta homeworld, Keevan was just bored, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Outdoor Sex, Religious Guilt, Vorta have tails!, Weyoun being repressed, Weyoun/Damar is in chapter two, but not aggressive, which is hardly relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijuvenom/pseuds/kaijuvenom%20after%20dark
Summary: Keevan and Weyoun don't particularly like each other, but living on a planet full of Vorta who don't engage in sex is incredibly boring. So they develop a bit of a relationship, one that revolves around Weyoun adamantly refusing to let Keevan give him any form of pleasure, but is more than happy to experiment with giving Keevan pleasure.But something happens when Weyoun meets a certain Cardassian, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to resist the temptation.
Relationships: Damar/Weyoun (Star Trek), Keevan/Weyoun (Star Trek)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Bite Your Tongue And Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy, gamers, reminder to please not comment on/try to discuss this fic with me if you're under 18! thank u and enjoy whatever this is.

Keevan didn’t like Weyoun. 

To be perfectly frank, Keevan didn’t like much of anything. 

He didn’t like the Founders, he didn’t like his job, didn’t like the clothes he had to wear or the fact that everything and its uncle was forbidden under Dominion rule.

He didn’t like the taste of rippleberries or the humid air of his home planet, nor did he like the texture of the leather of Weyoun’s coat or the way the sun was covered by ominous clouds that kept sprinkling droplets of rain into his eyes whenever he opened them, and he could go on and on throughout the mundane problems of his life, but he didn’t like doing that either. 

Regardless of his likes or dislikes, it was humid and raining on his home planet, and Weyoun’s mouth tasted like fresh rippleberries and his leather coat stuck to Keevan’s hands when he pressed his palms against his chest. It was too hot and too uncomfortable and he wanted to suggest going inside, but there was really nowhere to go more isolated than this corner. Keevan wouldn’t have minded if someone caught them and the only thing they had to worry about was embarrassment, it had happened before, but it had only been Kilana then, and she’d sworn not to tell. If anyone else found them, it’d be the activation of their termination implants most certainly. 

Weyoun pushed against Keevan’s mouth, tangling their tongues together and gripping his shirt tightly, until he was falling onto his back and Weyoun was on top of him. Keevan would’ve liked to open his eyes, even for a moment, because despite the Founder’s best attempts, he’d still retained his sense of aesthetics. And Weyoun, for all his annoyances, was pretty. But it was still raining, and Weyoun wasn’t pretty enough to risk water in Keevan’s eyes. Besides, it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen Weyoun above him. 

It was a fairly average sight. He had the frustrating curve of Weyoun’s lips when he would smile knowingly as a perfect image forever in his mind. He knew what Weyoun would do, and when. It was almost on a schedule, now. He didn’t know what they’d do when the winter storms came, when the entire jungle flooded and the wind ripped up trees. But for now, it was manageable, and Keevan didn’t care enough to think about it, so he blindly grabbed the lapels of Weyoun’s jacket to bring his face down and kissed him sloppily. 

Weyoun’s tail wrapped around his own as their lips met, mouths open, almost like his tail was mirroring the movements of his tongue against Keevan’s. Covering him, encircling him, making sure he knew there was no escape.

No escape from this life, this set of circumstances, the stiflingly humid rain, and the taste of rippleberries. Even if there was, Keevan doubted he’d manage to come up with the dedication to find it.

He bit down on Weyoun’s bottom lip and took perverse pleasure in the way Weyoun jumped, pulling back to look at him. 

“Ow,” he muttered, although he didn’t seem particularly disgruntled, and Keevan squinted his eyes open to watch him bring a finger up to his lip, swiping across it and staring in vaguely interested surprise at the violet blood that came off on it. 

Keevan snapped his hand up and grabbed Weyoun’s wrist, pulling it down to his mouth and running his tongue along Weyoun’s finger, licking away the blood. Overcome with a newfound enthusiasm, Keevan pushed himself up into a sitting position, pressing his chest against Weyoun’s and kissing him again, sucking on his lower lip and letting the blood coat his tongue. Weyoun’s tail left its previous place of around Keevan’s, and instead circled his arm, almost squeezing it.

“What-“ Weyoun began as they broke apart briefly, before pausing to gasp quietly as Keevan’s mouth found his throat, “are you doing?” He finished, adjusting their position to rest himself against Keevan’s thigh, and Keevan didn't miss the microscopic amount Weyoun moved himself against Keevan, like he wanted desperately to rub against him but was forcing himself not to. 

“I’m not sure,” Keevan replied matter-of-factly, a rush of excitement pooling in his stomach as he ran a finger across the mark he’d left on the side of Weyoun’s neck. “Is it painful?” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss to the mark and then biting it again, relishing in Weyoun’s full-body shudder. 

“Not- particularly,” he replied after a moment. 

Keevan hummed noncommittally, trying to remember what it was that had led them out here to begin with. “Did you speak to the Founders?” He asked, pulling halfheartedly at his own coat until Weyoun took the bait and removed it for him, to which Keevan was quick to return the favor. 

“I did,” Weyoun said, seeming to purposefully avoid Keevan’s eyes and instead focused his attention downward, to the remains of his and Keevan’s clothes. “The Cardassians have aligned themselves with us.”

“What are they like?” Keevan asked, lying back down now that he was unencumbered by clothes, feeling the soft, but still unpleasantly wet, ground beneath him. 

“I didn’t meet them,” Weyoun said shortly, and Keevan could tell he was hiding something, but he found it difficult to concentrate on that when Weyoun’s hand had found his slit, rubbing it with his middle finger, pushing into his entrance briefly before pulling back again. 

Keevan normally would have made some sort of comment about that, probably telling Weyoun to stop being such a tease, but before he could even get the words out, Weyoun’s tongue had materialized on him.

His hips bucked up involuntarily, and he tried to focus back on their conversation to keep himself from making any noises Weyoun wouldn’t hesitate to make fun of him for. 

“Why-“ he began, breaking off as Weyoun licked inside him, spreading his legs further apart. He spared a brief look at Weyoun, sitting up a bit just to see what he was doing, but soon decided that took too much energy and laid back down again. “Why,” he tried again, “did the Founders tell you- if you didn’t meet the-“ He stopped, mind blanking on the name of the species Weyoun had said, but his message seemed to have gotten across nonetheless. 

Weyoun hummed against him, and the vibration sent a shockwave through Keevan’s body. 

“Because I’m going to. Meet them, that is,” Weyoun replied after a second of silence. He pushed a finger into Keevan while continuing to lick at his soft, violet-tinged flesh, as if that would distract him from what he’d just said. 

It did, for a minute, at least, and Keevan allowed himself to succumb to the feeling, his hand reaching down to tangle in Weyoun’s hair. 

“When?” He asked, taking a stuttering breath as Weyoun added a second finger, pumping in and out slowly. 

Again, Weyoun hummed, and this time didn’t remove his mouth from Keevan’s clit as he spoke. “Today,” he said, and then went back to sucking hard on the bundle of flesh, making Keevan intake a sharp breath, scraping his fingers against Weyoun’s scalp. 

“Today,” Keevan repeated. “How long?” 

Weyoun slowly pushed a third finger in his hole, pushing in and out without regard for consistency or any distinguishable pattern.

He moved his mouth to Keevan’s thighs, leaving dark purple marks on them before sitting up briefly, and then leaning down, using his free hand to balance himself a centimeter over Keevan’s face. 

“I’m the Vorta representative for the Cardassians,” he said, without any emotion behind it, and kissed Keevan with the same lack of passion. 

For a time that seemed far too long to be comfortable, the only audible noise was the slick sound of Weyoun’s fingers pushing in and out of him. Keevan bucked his hips into his hand, trying to force him to move deeper, or at least faster, which Weyoun finally relented to, making Keevan moan against his lips. 

He closed his mouth around Weyoun’s bottom lip just as his words sunk in, and, whether overcome by the bout of jealousy over Weyoun being allowed to (once again) leave this hell of a jungle before him, or simply annoyed that he’d buried the lede for so long, once again bit down into his skin. 

Weyoun hissed in pain, briefly stopping his movements and opening his eyes to glare at Keevan. A bubble of blood appeared on his lip and Keevan smirked, swiping his tongue across it just as he had earlier. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“Liar,” Weyoun responded, mirroring Keevan’s lackadaisical tone as they kissed again, mouths open and tongues tangling together.

Pressure built in Keevan’s stomach and he squirmed briefly, trying to force Weyoun to move his fingers faster. Weyoun didn’t obey, and instead dropped to an unbearably slow pace, pressing himself against Keevan’s hips to prevent him from continuing to move.

“Are you jealous?” Weyoun asked, breathing into Keevan’s ear, licking across the shell of it. Keevan felt him grin as he tried to once again thrust his hips up, to no avail.

“Oh, please,” Keevan managed, attempting for sarcasm, but his _please_ got stuck in his throat halfway out and came out of his mouth sounding more like he was begging for Weyoun to give him what he wanted. 

“Maybe I can convince them to let me bring a friend,” Weyoun said, once again tracing the shape of Keevan’s ear with his tongue. 

“I’d rather- I’d rather stay here for the rest of eternity than be the Founder’s lapdog,” Keevan responded, and Weyoun laughed lightly.

“You know, you’re lucky jealousy looks good on you.” Weyoun pressed a hard kiss to his lips before ducking back down. 

“Fuck _off.”_ Keevan went back to rocking into Weyoun’s hand again as soon as he felt the pressure remove itself from his hips. 

“I plan on doing exactly that, as soon as I’m done here. You know I hate to leave a job… unfinished.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a sudden, hard push of his fingers into Keevan, crooking them slightly. He once again brought his mouth down to Keevan’s clit, circling it slowly and staring up at him, watching as Keevan’s breath sped up and he swore under his breath. 

“Will you miss me?” Weyoun asked, in that way he recognized as Weyoun already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

“Absolutely not.”

“Will you miss _this?”_ Weyoun punctuated his question with another swirl of his tongue, twisting his fingers inside Keevan to rub against the walls of his hole. 

Despite Weyoun’s constant obsession with his own voice, it wasn’t enough to stave off Keevan’s orgasm, and he came onto Weyoun’s hand, covering his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping him. 

His legs shook as waves of pleasure rolled off of him, and he didn’t even attempt to move as Weyoun pulled his fingers out of him and wiped them off on the ground without much fanfare. In fact, he looked rather blasé about the whole thing, as he always did. He began to get up, collecting his clothes and slipping them on, as Keevan continued to catch his breath, before finally sitting up, shaking the rain out of his hair. 

“Could you throw me my clothes?” He asked, and Weyoun, instead of answering verbally, tossed them directly at his head. Because of course he did. “I despise you.”

“And I you,” Weyoun said, fastening his coat and pushing his wet hair off his forehead. “I’m leaving now.”

Keevan squinted at him as he pulled his shirt on, trying to establish if the purple blush on his face was due to Weyoun actually being aroused or if he always looked like that. Weyoun was one of Keevan’s hobbies, one of the things that kept him on his toes and allowed any semblance of interest in his life. He was interesting, in that he had no qualms about pleasuring other people, in fact, he seemed to enjoy it, even sometimes to the extent of enjoying it the way one was _supposed_ to enjoy sex. But he had never once allowed Keevan to return the favor, as it were. Something about orgasms and pleasuring oneself to be against the Founder’s wishes, Keevan usually chose to tune Weyoun out whenever he mentioned their glorious overlords. 

“Maybe a Cardassian will fuck the prude out of you,” Keevan offered as parting wisdom, to which Weyoun rolled his eyes and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vorta clit? vorta clit. i will not be accepting constructive criticism on the vorta clit


	2. Stick Around A While

“Your lip is bleeding,” The Founder said, and Weyoun made a small noise in the back of his throat, wiping his finger against his bottom lip and staring at the blood that came off on it. He shouldn’t have let Keevan do that, but he’d allowed himself to succumb to momentary weakness, and he’d enjoyed it. 

He brushed his finger against his coat and continued looking straight ahead, waiting for the Cardassians to appear. From what he’d learned in the extremely brief preparation he’d been allowed (he had been supposed to go through the Dominion’s reports in the time before he was sent to leave, but instead, he’d gone to Keevan, again, in momentary weakness. He’d have to remember to pray for forgiveness later, perhaps when he was on the ship to Cardassia). 

“Gul Dukat,” the Founder said, and Weyoun snapped to attention, feeling rather foolish for not having even noticed the Cardassians’ entrance. 

Of the two, Weyoun believed the other one’s name was Damar, Gul Dukat was clearly the one in charge, but he exuded an aura of inferiority, and Weyoun disliked him instantly. The other, Damar, looked much how Weyoun felt; that he would rather be anywhere else. He caught Weyoun’s eye briefly, and his gaze was piercing and harsh. Weyoun looked away almost immediately, eyes flickering to the floor.

“Allow me to welcome you to your new ship,” The Founder said, gesturing to the Bridge they stood on, and Gul Dukat looked around, and said something Weyoun didn’t listen to. 

“Of course, your crew will be composed of Cardassians and Jem’Hadar soldiers in equal parts, as was the agreement,” the Founder said in reply.

“And who is this?” It took Weyoun a moment to realize Gul Dukat was addressing him, and he kept his eyes trained to the ground, knowing not to speak unless the Founder told him to. 

“This is Weyoun, your assigned Vorta. Weyoun will answer any questions you have regarding the ship and Jem’Hadar crew, and is to be considered my proxy in all matters regarding the war and any other decisions. If that is all, I’ll take my leave, and you can be on your way at your leisure.”

Dukat yet again said something else, and by the time Weyoun was able to discern the passage of time again, the Founder had left. He looked up into Dukat’s eyes. Now that the Founder was gone, it didn’t seem such a crime. 

“Weyoun,” Dukat said, and he reached out and touched Weyoun’s ear, running his hand across its curves. Not knowing if this was some form of greeting (curse Keevan for distracting him too long to have read the psychological profile of Dukat), Weyoun didn’t pull away, even though he wanted to. “You don’t look like a fighter.”

Weyoun blinked up at him, taking half a step back to create some space between them. “The Vorta are not created for that purpose, no.”

“No need to fear, you’ll be safe with me,” Dukat said, with an air of grandiosity that Weyoun found to be disgusting. 

“I wasn’t afraid to begin with,” Weyoun said shortly, and before he could say anything more, he forced himself to grit his teeth and smile. “But I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going to my quarters if you have no need for me.”

When no one objected, Weyoun shoved his way past Dukat and the other Cardassian, taking the turbolift down to the small hallway all the quarters were on, and picked a door at random, deciding they were likely all the same anyway. 

The door didn’t slide shut behind him, but Weyoun was far too distracted to notice as he walked to the replicator, not turning on the lights as he did. 

“Computer, one incense stick, ash and osmanthus, and two candles, pillars.” The replicator obeyed, and the objects appeared in front of him. He pushed one of the two bedside tables into the middle of the room, and placed a candle on either end, and then placed the incense stick in between them. He pulled a match out from one of his pockets and lit it, lighting the candles and incense, then blowing it out.

He knelt down in front of the table, raising his arms the same way he did when he bowed for the Founder, and tilted his head down slightly, closing his eyes. 

“Founders,” he whispered. “Please forgive me for my actions today. I acted without thought or care to Your Plan and Your wishes. I try to follow your example, but I am flawed, unlike you.” His voice cracked, a little sliver of doubt seeping into his mind, the way it always did. The doubt, he’d found, influenced him less when he envisioned Keevan saying it to him. It was Keevan’s fault for sowing doubt in his mind in the first place. He resumed the prayer.

“As much as I try, I will never be as advanced as You, and can only try to emulate your fluidity and unencumber myself from the emotions and… physical desires… of the solids. I pledge all of myself to You, my life, my love, and my worship.” He stayed still for a minute longer, basking in the soft, flowery scent of the incense and the sound of the candles burning down their wicks. 

And then there was another noise, a breath, a footstep, and he recognized it as someone in his doorway. He spun around so fast he nearly knocked one of the candles off the table with his arm. 

It was Damar, the other Cardassian who hadn’t said anything on the Bridge, the one who’d looked like he’d sooner shoot himself with a phaser than align himself with the Dominion.

“Computer, lights,” Weyoun said, clearing his throat and standing up. He looked Damar in the eye briefly, and then looked away again, down at his shoes. “Can I help you?” He asked, to which Damar didn’t seem to have an answer prepared. 

In fact, Damar hadn’t come prepared for any of this. Not for the disconcertingly pretty Vorta, or for the fact that said pretty Vorta had a very obvious hickey on his neck, or even for coming here to begin with.

He’d never wanted to ally himself with the Dominion, but Dukat was his superior, and, as far as anyone was aware, his friend. In reality, Damar hated him, but sucking up to superiors was an age-old Cardassian tradition, and one Damar took very seriously. 

The point was, he’d only been able to object so much before Dukat grew angry. 

After that, there was nothing more he could do but follow orders, so he did, and they’d met with the shapeshifter, the being who called herself a Founder. She’d explained the way the Dominion operated, and the entirety of it was altogether rather horrifying to Damar. The subtle implications the Founder’s words had left him disturbed long after their meeting ended. The next day, they were told to meet her again, on what would be their new Dominion ship, with her representative. 

The Vorta. Weyoun, he was fairly certain she called him. 

He’d looked almost broken, like there were far more things going on in his mind than simply worshipping the shapeshifters, and he carried guilt for all of them. He hadn’t looked up or spoken until the Founder had left, and then he’d looked Dukat right in the eye, despite being half a foot shorter than him, and talked back to him. He’d backtracked almost immediately, but it was still surprising someone who Damar had been led to believe was a brainless, obedient servant was capable of that much annoyance. Although if anyone could annoy him, it would be Dukat.

Damar had taken the turbolift down to the quarters, following Weyoun with the intent to apologize to him on behalf of Dukat, both for the clearly unwanted way he’d touched Weyoun, and for the comment he’d made about him after Weyoun had gone. 

When he’d arrived, the door of Weyoun’s quarters had been left open, and the lights were off.

He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but the way the candlelight had flickered against Weyoun’s pale skin, making him glow a light shade of purple, the way the soft scent of flowers and the delicate curls of his hair had mingled together to create a beautiful scene, Damar couldn’t bring himself to disturb him. So he chose to simply wait until he was done, he seemed to be praying. 

Weyoun began speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Founders, please forgive me for my actions today. I acted without thought or care to Your Plan and Your wishes. I try to follow your example, but I am flawed,” his voice cracked, and Damar could practically feel his sorrow, “unlike you,” Weyoun finished, and Damar watched as his hand began shaking. 

“As much as I try, I will never be as advanced as You, and can only try to emulate your fluidity and unencumber myself from the emotions and...” Weyoun paused in his sentence, and Damar thought that perhaps he’d heard him, but then he swallowed and continued, “… physical desires… of the solids.” 

Damar’s brain once again went back to the hickey on Weyoun’s neck, the one that stuck out like a sore thumb on his pale skin. It didn’t take much to connect the dots after that, and Damar felt a twinge of pity for him, wondering if he’d left a lover on his home planet. 

Weyoun ended the prayer by pledging himself to the Founders, wording his worship in a way that made Damar feel viscerally uncomfortable to even be  _ associated  _ with the Dominion, but he tried not to think too hard on that, and instead continued to watch as Weyoun silently knelt there, wondering how long he would stay in that position, and if perhaps Damar should knock on the wall or clear his throat to get his attention. 

He didn’t get the chance to, because Weyoun seemed to have heard his mental dilemma and spun around, narrowly missing knocking over one of his candles as he hastily stood up. He told the computer to turn the lights on, then faced Damar with a rather intimidating look he hadn’t thought someone so small would be capable of. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

His lip was bleeding, and Damar resisted the urge to point that out. 

“I…” Damar began, and then composed himself and tried again. “I was coming down to apologize. To you,” he added as an afterthought, and then cringed. Of course he was apologizing to Weyoun, there was no one else down here to apologize to. 

“Apologize?” Weyoun asked, raising an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Dukat,” Damar said simply, and Weyoun brought his arms back down to his sides, seemingly relaxing as he shrugged. “I’m used to that sort of thing,” he said blandly, turning around and quickly blowing out the candles. 

“Evidently,” Damar said, before he could think through that decision. 

Weyoun looked at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

Damar shifted, uncomfortable. “Ah...” he responded (with immense intelligence). “It’s just… your neck,” he finally said, because frankly, Weyoun had to have known it was there, unless he’d come straight to the ship after making out with some mysterious person. 

“What?” Weyoun asked, and then his eyes widened, seemingly in realization, and he stepped across the room, pulling down his collar slightly to examine the purple mark on his neck in the mirror.  _ “Fucking _ Keevan,” he muttered under his breath, and rubbed angrily at the mark. 

Clearly, if Weyoun had left a lover on his planet, they either had an interesting relationship or hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Curiosity bubbled up inside Damar, but he felt he’d already intruded far too much on Weyoun’s privacy. 

“Did the Founder see this? Do you know?” Weyoun asked, still rubbing at the mark, rather panicked, his tone desperate. 

“I doubt she even knows what that  _ is,  _ much less that she bothered to look at you long enough to see it,” Damar responded. 

Weyoun nodded in agreement, seeming to calm down at Damar’s words. “That is true, the Founders pride themselves in their lack of need to engage in such low activities, and…” he paused, taking a deep breath. “If she had noticed, I wouldn’t be here to talk about it.” 

That was a... rather terrifyingly ominous statement, and as much as Damar didn’t want an explanation, he couldn’t help the fact that his curiosity once again got the better of him. “Is… is physical intimacy… illegal on your planet?”

Weyoun blinked at him, like he was confused, like no one else had ever been interested in him or his species before. “Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious. “The only time it is allowed would be as a diplomatic tactic, with another species. Never between each other.”

“So that’s why you were…” Damar trailed off, gesturing to the candles and incense. Weyoun nodded in confirmation. 

They stood in silence for a moment, until Damar spoke again. “Why don’t you show me to the medbay? I’ll see if I can get rid of that mark with a dermal regenerator, if you want.” He felt it was the least he could do, both for eavesdropping on Weyoun and simply for the awful life Weyoun must’ve had. 

“Thank you,” Weyoun said, his voice small, as he led Damar out of his quarters and back into the turbolift, taking him down to the medbay. 

He smiled at Damar as he gestured for him to exit first, and his smile was something intoxicating, sincere and pure and beautiful and yet completely disingenuous at the same time.

Damar, apparently more acquainted with medical supplies than Weyoun was, found a dermal regenerator before him. He picked it up, examining it carefully. It seemed to be nearly identical to those Damar was familiar with, and he turned it on easily. 

Weyoun stood still as Damar ran it across his skin, and the marks faded away. Damar was almost sad to see it go, it had looked rather nice on him. He paused to look at Weyoun’s face, holding his gaze and trying to discern his expression. 

He was unable to.

“You have a cut on your lip,” he said after a moment. “Do you want me to-“

“Yes, please,” Weyoun interrupted. “It’s rather uncomfortable to speak.”

Instead of just asking Weyoun to tilt his head back, Damar placed his hand on Weyoun’s chin and gently pushed his head back a bit, and carefully ran the regenerator across Weyoun’s lip. The mark vanished, and, driven by some unseen force, brushed his thumb against Weyoun’s lip before pulling away.

“Good as new,” he said, eyes flickering away from Weyoun’s face as he set the regenerator down. 

Weyoun blinked, and then blinked two more times, and then once more, staring at Damar in silence. 

“Do… do you have a partner?” Damar asked after a minute of Weyoun staring at him in silence, just because he couldn’t bear the bizarre tension that had settled between them and he needed to say  _ something _ and that was the first thing he thought of.

“Not…” Weyoun began, and hesitated. “No.” He seemed to decide that was the best answer he could come up with, and didn’t say anything else for a minute.

“He’s-“ Weyoun started again, frowning as if he couldn’t quite come up with the words. “Keevan is the only Vorta as… interested in mating rituals as I am. But as far as enjoyment of each other’s company goes…” Weyoun trailed off, making a face, one that Damar understood instantly.

“We have a term for that type of relationship on Cardassia,” Damar said. “Although I don’t think it’s appropriate to repeat in a… work setting.”

“I think we’re well past appropriate work relations, Damar,” Weyoun responded, a light smirk on his face, and Damar wondered if he was flirting with him, or if it was just the way he spoke. He wouldn’t mind either way, and chose not to delve into an analysis of Weyoun’s tone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weyoun: ah fuck i felt a feeling gotta go pray the gay away  
> Weyoun, two minutes later: so there’s this dumb lizard man,


	3. I'm Obsessed With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keevan, from halfway across the galaxy: told you so, bitch

Weyoun couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind, Damar’s hand had been cold, resting on his chin, gently tilting his head back. His fingers had pressed into his chin, along the ridges of his jawbone. And then just when Weyoun thought he might survive the encounter, Damar had brushed his thumb across Weyoun’s bottom lip. He’d managed to stay still at the time, but here, in the safety of his own quarters, where only several hours ago he’d prayed to the Founders for forgiveness for even  _ thinking _ about such things, he couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through him. 

There was something about that Cardassian, Damar. There was  _ something  _ about him, the way his gaze was cold and distant like the touch of his skin, but he wasn’t dangerous. Not like Dukat, who reminded Weyoun of every other alien leader, high off their own power and who would’ve been lacking the subtlety and tact to get into power in the first place, had whatever system that placed him there been a little less corrupt. 

Or perhaps that was Keevan, warping his brain again. 

Keevan. 

_ Fucking  _ Keevan. 

This was all his fault, his corrupting influence. If Weyoun had been smart, he would have reported Keevan’s rebellious behavior months ago, but he hadn’t, and now he was in Weyoun’s head, laughing at him smugly.

_ “Maybe you’ll find a Cardassian to fuck the prude out of you.”  _ Keevan’s words echoed, and Weyoun shook his head, begging him to go away. 

Keevan, however, did not go away, and Weyoun was in his quarters, alone but with Keevan’s sarcastic voice echoing in his ears, the ghost of Damar’s touch on his skin, and it was  _ almost  _ too much. 

The ship was warm, too warm, meant to accommodate the Cardassians, and Weyoun was wearing nothing. It was still too warm. He shifted on his bed, glancing down at his lap, and then gripping his sheets in his hands, throwing his head up to look at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t. He’d gone this long without it, he couldn’t fathom why it was so important now. 

He should think about something else, anything else, and he tried to, for at least five whole minutes (probably less) before it became unbearable and he forced himself up in bed and threw on the first article of clothing he came across, which happened to be a purple brocade dressing gown that he’d once borrowed from Kilana and neglected to ever give back. He didn’t bother with shoes, it wasn’t like there would be anyone up and about to care about his state of undress, just the Jem’Hadar crew on the Bridge, and Weyoun wouldn’t be going anywhere near them. 

There was an observation deck of sorts on every Dominion ship, although they were never in use. The Jem’Hadar didn’t care, the Vorta couldn’t see, and the Cardassians hadn’t been given a complete tour of the ship yet, so Weyoun was used to them being empty. He expected this one to be as well, to be left alone in the rather small room that was pushed into one corner next to the mess hall, with the only window in the whole ship and an uncomfortable couch and awkwardly placed end table. 

This turned out not to be the case. The doors slid open and Weyoun was greeted with the silhouette of Damar, leaning against the wall, backlit by the weak starlight shining in from the window he was staring out from. 

“Damar,” he said, stepping inside and glancing back as the door shut behind him, like it was trapping him in, resigning him to this fate. 

Turning to face him, Damar made a small noise in the back of his throat as his eyes wandered across Weyoun’s face, up to his hair (which was a complete mess, curls sticking up in every which way) and back down, resting on his dressing gown, and Weyoun realized that it had fallen open three quarters of the way up his thigh, and he moved it closed, a blush creeping up his neck. 

“I, ah, didn’t realize you knew about this room,” Weyoun said, trying his best to remain composed. 

“I asked a Jem’Hadar if there were any windows on this ship. Although,” Damar paused, finally snapping his eyes away from Weyoun’s dressing gown, “those might not have been my exact words. I may have used the phrase  _ godforsaken hell ship  _ at some point. I’m- sleep deprived at the moment.”

“I doubt they took offense,” Weyoun smiled, taking a few more steps closer and then stopping himself. “I hope our accommodations are proving to your liking.”

“It really isn’t my place to comment on it,” Damar responded, shaking his head. “If Dukat is… satisfied with this development, as am I.”

Weyoun cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t ask Dukat. You helped me earlier. I’m trying to repay the favor.”

Damar sighed, seeming to relent, a bit at least, and his eyes once again began wandering across Weyoun’s form, before he looked away, back out the window.

“There’s nothing wrong with the accommodations.”

“If… you don’t mind my saying this, you seem tense.” Weyoun bit his bottom lip, an idea occurring to him as he stepped forward, placing a hand on Damar’s upper arm and lowering his voice to something close to a whisper. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Weyoun felt him stiffen under his touch, and removed his hand, backing away. 

“Are you…” Damar began, and it seemed as though a question was on his lips, moment away from being spoken aloud, before he seemed to wave it away. “I could use the company,” he said instead, and Weyoun wasn’t sure how to interpret that, so he didn’t. 

He stayed quiet, watching Damar’s eyes flickering across the window, his expression anything but calm and relaxed. 

“What are you looking for?” Weyoun asked eventually, and Damar turned his head to answer. 

“I’m watching the stars. It relaxes me. Or, it usually does, at least.”

Weyoun hummed in understanding. 

“Why are you here?”

Damar’s question caught him off guard, and he couldn’t come up with a proper response. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“Evidently. But why couldn’t you not sleep in your quarters? Why come out here?”

“It’s  _ usually _ unoccupied,” Weyoun said, and Damar laughed.

“I hate to call forth an ancient Human tradition of ‘calling dibs’, but,” Damar gestured, turning fully around to face Weyoun, “I  _ was _ here first.”

“Neither of us are Human, thus Human traditions have little merit here,” Weyoun argued.

“But I was still here first,” Damar said.

“But it  _ is  _ my ship.”

Damar smiled, reaching over and, with more delicacy than Weyoun would have expected from him, smoothed out the crease in the collar of Weyoun’s dressing gown, his hand lingering there for a moment before pulling back. “I hope you won’t risk the Dominion’s relationship with Cardassia just for some privacy on the galaxy’s smallest observation deck.”

“Well, I would  _ hate  _ for us to be enemies,” Weyoun agreed, matching Damar’s smile. “Perhaps we should start over.” He tilted his head to the side, biting the inside corner of his lip. “Or, we could skip to somewhere in the middle.”

Damar blinked, and for a moment Weyoun thought maybe he hadn’t understood. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and rough. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. Although, I would like to know whether you’re suggesting this just to  _ accommodate  _ me.”

“That may be a factor,” Weyoun admitted, “I hate to see a new citizen of the Dominion unsatisfied. But, aside from that,” he looked down, hesitantly running his fingers down Damar’s arm until they reached his hand, “I find the idea amenable.”

“And your… friend back on your homeworld?” Damar questioned.

“His last words to me before my departure were,” Weyoun paused, hesitating over the vulgar phrasing of Keevan’s words,  _ maybe you’ll find a Cardassian to fuck the prude out of you.  _ “Well,” he decided on, “let’s just say he wouldn’t mind.”

Damar wrapped an arm around Weyoun’s waist, pulling him close. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t need to ask regarding my romantic entanglements.”

Smiling knowingly, Weyoun brushed his palm across Damar’s cheek. “The Dominion has a remarkable amount of intelligence on you. And on your ex-wife, and her new wife as well. Lovely women.”

“You-” Damar blinked as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, “you spoke to my ex wife? When?  _ Why?” _

“This afternoon. All part of our standard research, no need to be concerned.” 

Clearly, Damar was concerned by this development (although for the life of him, Weyoun couldn’t understand why). “Did you speak to all of Dukat’s ex-lovers?” 

“I attempted it,” Weyoun lied. Speaking to the former lovers of allies was not in any guidelines for acquiring information, Weyoun had simply been far too curious for his own good when it came to Damar. 

“Attempted?” Damar repeated.

Wracking his brain for the information he’d acquired from his brief scan of Dukat’s psychological profile, Weyoun came up with an answer. “For some reason, most of his ex-lovers seem to be dead. Mostly Bajoran women, killed in mysterious accidents, or blatantly executed during the Cardassian occupation of Bajor.” Weyoun didn’t realize until after he’d finished his sentence that this topic was a bit of a mood killer. 

“I-” Damar started to say, and Weyoun, becoming rather fed up with this line of conversation, sought to somehow change the subject, which he did by uncurling himself from around Damar’s arms and pulling away the tie of his dressing gown, letting it slip to the floor without so much as a how-do-you-do. Yet again, Damar seemed to be at a loss for words, his eyes were wide as he moved his gaze down Weyoun’s body and up again, then back down, like perhaps he’d hallucinated the fact that there was a naked Vorta standing in front of him. 

Kicking away the fabric that had pooled at his feet and stepping back into Damar’s space, Weyoun ran his palms down Damar’s chest like he was feeling the texture of his armor, stopping at his hips and moving inward, towards his thighs. Damar made a small noise, almost close to a hiss, and moved, one hand cupping Weyoun’s cheek and bringing him up to kiss him, and the other unfastening his pants, letting them slide down around his knees. 

Weyoun’s fingers were quick to wrap around Damar’s already half-hard cock, pumping it slowly, and Damar moaned. 

“Do you want me to use my mouth?” Weyoun asked, speaking against Damar’s lips, and Damar nodded in response. Weyoun pressed a trail of wet kisses down his neck, stopping when he reached the collar of Damar’s armor and looking up at him with frustration. “Take this off,” he said, dropping to his knees and taking this moment to examine Damar’s anatomy. 

He was very luminescent, in a way that other species probably found aesthetically pleasing, but Weyoun couldn’t say for sure, as he ran his free hand down Damar’s thigh and watched as the scales rippled against his touch. He glanced up to make sure this was still what Damar wanted, as well as to confirm he’d followed Weyoun’s instruction to remove his armor and the undershirt beneath it, which he had. 

He ran his tongue along the underside of Damar’s cock, feeling its texture and deciding what exactly he should do with it. It had been a long time since he’d done anything with this particular type of anatomy, but he was certain he still had the basic concept understood well enough. He pushed forward, to the head of Damar’s cock and sucked hard, and relished in the sharp groan that tugged its way out of Damar, the way one hand moved to brace himself against the window and the other wrapped itself around Weyoun’s tangled curls, pulling lightly.

Weyoun leaned back, and then tilted his head to the side, licking a long stripe from the base to the tip, and then repeated the movement before proceeding with the task he assumed was most desired (and was also the task  _ he _ most desired), hollowing out his cheeks and breathing in deeply through his nose as he took all of Damar into his mouth, feeling it hit the back of his throat. He gagged but didn’t pull back, he found the feeling almost pleasurable, letting it rest there as he swirled his tongue around it, before bobbing his head halfway back and then all the way down again, each time letting it bump against his throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and Damar wiped them away before moving his hand to Weyoun’s hair and pulling him back. His lips left Damar’s cock with a wet noise that was downright filthy, and he coughed once, wiping his mouth.

“Are you-” Damar started, and despite the lust clouding his face and his ragged breaths, he looked concerned. A rush of warmth flowed through Weyoun that, this time at least, wasn’t arousal, but genuine affection.

“I like it,” Weyoun said in response, and even he could note the gravelly hint now in his voice.

_ “Fuck,”  _ was Damar’s only response to that, and Weyoun took that as confirmation to continue his previous activities. He shifted, rubbing his leg against his own slit for just a moment, and tried to ignore how wet he was.

The hand in his hair tightened, almost in warning, as Weyoun took Damar’s cock in his mouth again and sucked hard, bobbing his head and digging his nails into Damar’s thighs to steady himself. 

Damar came without much warning in advance other than the increasingly hard tugs on Weyoun’s hair, and Weyoun considered the taste of it in his mouth (it didn’t have one, but that was likely Weyoun’s limited senses), before turning and spitting it onto the floor before vaguely realizing that he probably shouldn’t be making such a mess, but it was too late for that. 

An amused snort of laughter came from above him, and Weyoun looked up, balancing himself with his hands on Damar’s hips as he stood. 

“Not to your tastes?” Damar asked, swiping his thumb across Weyoun’s chin in a fruitless attempt to clean him up, before pulling him in to kiss him.

“I don’t care for the mouthfeel,” Weyoun responded honestly after breaking the kiss. “On a side note, it’s your job to come up with an excuse for me if I can’t speak tomorrow,” he added as he turned and bent down, intending to pick up his dressing gown, but Damar caught his wrist before he could get too far, bringing him back into his arms. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused by Weyoun’s departure. 

Weyoun blinked, looking up at him and tilting his head to one side and then the other, trying to understand his question. “To my quarters. I can’t very well sleep out here.”

It was now Damar’s turn to give him a confused look, before it melted away into one of understanding, and Damar glanced down between Weyoun’s legs, before looking back up into his eyes. “Can you not…” he gestured with his free hand, “experience pleasure?” 

“Oh,” Weyoun said, and he didn’t know what else to say, so he simply repeated the word, lips forming into a perfect circle, and he mouthed the word once again. He felt Damar shift against his touch, letting go of his wrist and pulling away and Weyoun was suddenly overcome with pure, desperate,  _ want, _ so he grabbed Damar’s arm. “No,” he said sharply, then realized that word was possibly even less clarifying than saying  _ oh _ over and over again. “I mean, yes, I can, and… I do. And I am,” he explained breathlessly. 

Damar stared at him, like Weyoun was a difficult puzzle that he found impossible to solve. “Do you want me to… do anything?” He asked, and Weyoun felt his knees weaken. 

“Yes,” he breathed, so quiet he was afraid Damar didn’t hear it, and he leaned into Damar’s chest again, supporting himself and trying to cool his once again rapidly increasing body heat against Damar’s scales at once. “Yes,” he said again, right into Damar’s ear this time. 

Damar nodded once, and brought his arms around Weyoun, guiding him backwards until he felt the back of his knees hit that uncomfortable couch. 

“Lie down,” he said, and Weyoun obeyed instantly. He watched as Damar knelt down, running his hands down Weyoun’s waist and grabbing his thighs, pulling him to the edge of the couch.

Weyoun breathed in, held the breath, and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself, to separate fear and guilt from pleasure, so he could just focus on one feeling. It didn’t work, because the second Damar’s finger touched his slit, he sat up with a panicked yelp.

“Weyoun, what- why are you- why- do you not… want this?” Damar seemed to be having trouble finding the appropriate questions to ask, and words to use, which Weyoun supposed was reasonable, considering Damar had no idea the inner turmoil that was rioting in Weyoun’s mind. 

Weyoun shook his head. “No, no, I do. It’s just-” he paused, trying to come up with a reason as to why he was so jumpy without revealing his terrible disobedience to his Gods. “I’ve never done this before. Or rather, no one has… ever done this to me, for me, before. But I do. Want this, that is. Please. _ Please.”  _ That wasn’t really a lie, so he tried not to feel bad about it. He was desperate, need washing over him once again and covering up that nasty feeling of guilt. 

Damar nodded once in confirmation, and Weyoun expected to feel his fingers again, but instead there was a different sensation, one that made him moan and took him a moment to identify as Damar’s tongue. 

He could see now, why the Founders didn’t want the Vorta engaging in this behavior. As Damar’s tongue explored the expanse of Weyoun’s sex, finding its way into his hole and poking in, forked sides of his tongue licking into him, Weyoun was overcome with the epiphany that this was better than anything else he had ever experienced in his entire existence. 

His second epiphany was much less pleasant, as it was the realization that Keevan had been right. As he often was, not that Weyoun had ever admitted that. He had been so right, and this feeling was incomparable to anything the Founders could ever give him. 

For some reason, these blasphemous thoughts did nothing to quell Weyoun’s enjoyment of the sensations caused by Damar’s tongue exploring him, and in fact, it seemed almost that they were increasing his arousal. But he tried not to dwell on that. And instead focused on the feelings, which was easy as soon as Damar found his clit and sucked there, making Weyoun cry out so loud he was afraid someone might hear them, and he snapped a hand up over his mouth to prevent another noise like that from escaping him.

He lifted himself up on one elbow to watch Damar, and their eyes met, and waves of pleasure rolled through Weyoun. His legs shook and his arm collapsed underneath him, forcing him to lie back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. When Damar’s finger once again touched him, slowly entering his hole and pumping in and out with a precision and care that was almost painful, he saw stars even with his eyes squeezed shut. 

It was a religious awakening, he thought, as another finger entered him, and suddenly he wasn’t so mad that Keevan had been right about this all along. 

Damar’s tongue drew patterns and circles across and around his clit as he added a third finger, and it was overwhelming, it was too much, and he almost found it in himself to think of the Founders again, but then it was too late and his orgasm hit him like a shockwave, rolling through his body and making his legs shake. He yelled out Damar’s name as he came, muffled under his hand over his mouth, and then he stilled, not moving save for the shaking of his limbs. 

He felt Damar’s hand on his wrist, pulling it gently off his mouth, and then a soft kiss to his forehead, fingers smoothing out his hair. He said something, but Weyoun didn’t understand it, and he felt Damar stand up and leave, and an intense feeling of loneliness overtook him, but then Damar was back, clothed in his undershirt and pants again.

“Can you sit up?” He asked, and it took Weyoun several tries, but he nodded and pulled himself up, and Damar took his arms one by one and clothed him back in the dressing gown. 

“Can you-” Weyoun broke off, clearing his throat in a doomed attempt to force the roughness out of his voice, “can you take me to my quarters? You can use my sonic shower, if you’d- if you’d like.”

“Of course.” Damar helped him up with a hand wrapped firmly around his waist, and led him down the hall and to the turbolift, to his quarters. They stepped in together, and Damar helped him onto his bed before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and disappearing into the bathroom. 

And Weyoun was alone, just like that, and he lied back on the bed, allowing his thoughts to wander as the shaking in his limbs began to subside. He thought about nothing at all, the diplomatic plan with the Cardassians, the improvements he’d need to make with the temperature control so he could have his quarters a comfortable temperature, and anything that wasn’t Damar, what he’d just done, the guilt that threatened to creep back in and overtake him. 

Unfortunately, as Damar came back out, and Weyoun moved to make room for him on the bed, inviting him in wordlessly, the feeling forced itself into him again. He curled up, hiding his face from Damar, and let out a heaving sob. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it like it was at fault for his situation and not Weyoun’s terrible self control. 

He felt Damar’s hand on his shoulder, and he heard him say his name, concern lacing his tone. Weyoun turned and pushed his head into Damar’s chest, breathing in his scent and breathing shakily. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure who he was apologizing to, Damar or the Founders, or perhaps even to Keevan for not believing him. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Damar shushed him gently, combing fingers through his hair and rubbing his back, waiting for him to calm down. 

“I-” Weyoun took a deep, shaking breath, “I shouldn’t have- I’m not-” He didn’t know how to explain himself to Damar, how to help him understand the gravity of what he’d done. “You should leave,” he finally said, pulling away. This was idiotic, this was a terrible decision, he’d just spilled his deepest desires and secrets to someone he’d barely known for half a day, and that realization was only now dawning on him. 

“I’m defective,” he said, pushing himself back and wiping his face on the back of his hand. “I shouldn’t have been picked to represent the Dominion, I- I’m an embarrassment, and I- I failed.” He paused briefly, swallowing. His throat protested painfully as he continued speaking, but he ignored it. “Please don’t- don’t let my actions inform your- your perception of the Dominion, I am an… inaccurate representative of its glory.” He said this all very fast, in one breath, and Damar looked at him as if he’d gone insane. 

“Weyoun, I hate to break it to you, but you are the best representative of the Dominion I’ve ever encountered.” He moved as if to touch Weyoun’s shoulder but hesitated at the last second, face faltering. “But if you really want me to leave, I will.”

Hesitating for a moment, Weyoun stared into Damar’s eyes, trying to establish his motives, his feelings, but was unable to discern them. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said eventually, and Damar nodded. 

“Then I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't _think_ I'll write another chapter to this, but I _might_ , so wHo knows lmao


End file.
